


aquila's stars

by chogiwarned



Series: golden tr(age)dy [2]
Category: Stray Kids (Band), TWICE (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Insomnia, Kinda, Lies, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Smut, Stargazing, Top!Chan, also neither woojin nor chan dies, and unbeta-ed, anyway, based off some stuff i read on tumblr, bottom!woojin, but there IS a major character that dies, chan is soft, hehe, it's just not them, like i didn't even reread it, secrets lol, this is rushed, woojin is kinda tough but soft, woojin's artemis & chan's callisto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 11:17:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16952994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chogiwarned/pseuds/chogiwarned
Summary: tired and high on both the blunt he smoked a few hours prior and the draining feeling of seeing chan again, he all but falls on top of him and starts sobbing again, his soul raw and bleeding and slowly dripping from his eyes. his hold is still painful but chan welcomes it eagerly, his own hands fisting woojin’s sweat. “hey, is that my scarf?” “shut the fuck up.”or, woojin goes through therapy after losing his lover, meets chan and falls in love. but chan has a secret.





	aquila's stars

**Author's Note:**

> hahahahahahaha excuse me did i say 'soon you'll get woojin's part' sorry i meant 'ages later you'll get woojin's part'  
> anyway  
> this is like. horrible and i'll probably edit it when i'm less lazy but yeah  
> here you go i GUESS  
> also i chaptered it in the fic but not with archive cuz... cuz

chapter I -- a ll hope abandon, ye who enter here.

 

woojin never was on the romantic side. he preferred endless movie nights in the comfort of his bed, scrolling through netflix while felix threaded his fingers in his hair. he liked it quiet, the silence only disturbed by the soft buzzing of random series episodes. but felix wanted to go out, that night. he wanted them to bring hyunjin along, for he seemed kind of down -- felix’s words, whispered against the older’s helix.

woojin could never say no to such a tender-looking felix.

  
  


it starts with a laugh, felix’s pinky finger clenching woojin’s. it starts with freckles sparkling all over his face, gracing his nose and kissing his soft cheekbones. it starts with hyunjin’s arm, draped over his shoulder -- with his voice murmuring sweet nothings inside woojin’s ear. but it starts mainly with a few words, splattered on the skies like stars.

 

“let’s conquer the night.”

 

he wishes hard, so  _ hard _ he hadn’t driven that one damn night. that he had refused in favor of walking. somehow his feet were tingling, craving to carry him into the dead of night. somehow he had a bad, bad feeling about this -- but he felt divine, he felt as if he could devour the world raw.

so he drove.

 

at first they just drive along the highway, chasing the last rays of sunlight and sending flying kisses to the moon and her sweet, sweet stars. but then they have to let the forest swallow them, and the nasty feeling in woojin’s heart lingers, clawing at his skin. he feels the other car right before he sees it -- flashers blaring white as felix and hyunjin scream ; his fingers grasp the wheel, he desperately tries to avoid the vehicle.

and then they crash.

 

the smell of ripped open wood surrounds him, he feels felix’s warm and shallow breath against his ear. a soft laugh, laced with the genuine fear of letting go ; woojin wants to talk, to reassure his delicate boyfriend that everything will be alright. but the metallic taste on his tongue blocks his throat, the red splashed on his hands makes him doubt, doubt and, somewhere along the line, he howls.

 

hyunjin’s voice echoes in his head -- something like  _ shit, woojin, are you okay? _ and then  _ oh my god felix _ . it sounds like an old radio, white noise blurring the edges of every syllabe.

 

the next few days feel like a nightmare ; passed out for eighteen hours and then, a tad later, he hears that felix didn’t make it. there’s a sharp pang in his chest, a tightening feeling that chokes his tears and rips a husky sob out of his throat. woojin wails and shrieks on his bed and doesn’t calm down until the nurses shoot him. morphin flows through his veins, alongside the agonising guilt -- he drifts off to a dreamless coma with sobs on the tip of his tongue and salt itching the corner of his eyes.

_ it’s my fault _ and his thoughts eat him away, guilt devouring what’s left of his grief. anger drips in thick tears all over his cheeks, his bawling morphing into quiet cries -- it lasts four days. four days of pure agony, filled with the raw desire of reversing time, of dying himself and allow felix to live.

 

he sees him in the scarlet lacquer coating his mother’s lips and nails. he feels the blood gushing out of some open wound on the boy’s body, covering woojin’s quivering self in shades of red and black. he hears him in the heavy breathing of his roomate, in the hospital. he remembers him when his brother, hyunjin, takes his hand and squeezes it, face stained by dried tears. he’s trapped. he’s suffocating. and yet, he’s not dying.

 

“woojin, you need to eat.” hyunjin was always on the caretaker side, seeming older than his actual brother. woojin would have laughed about it, if his lungs allowed him to and his stomach felt less churned. a soft piano song plays in the distance and woojin offers hyunjin a soft smile, laced with sadness and a hint of fatigue.

“i can’t.” he still tastes blood on his tongue, overflowing his mouth and making him want to puke. it’s just bile when he does throw up, burning his throat and his tummy. a few days prior he felt divine, but now he just feels miserable. he feels mortal.

 

the hours pass by as he spends them with piano practice, until his fingers are a little raw and hurt him in all the right places. pain helps him, pain makes him feel forgiven. he doesn’t cut -- doesn’t have the guts to. maybe it’s cowardness. he tries to fill his gaping parts with regret, sorrow and grief, but the guilt takes it all. the guilt, the anger, the self-hatred. it leaves invisible scars all over his body, makes him wake up in the middle of the night and weeping until his eyes sting him with salt and maybe a little blood.

 

“your doctor suggested that you went through a group therapy. you will go.” every word his mother whispers tries to cut through his heavily-fogged mind but woojin’s exhausted, too tired to even think of protesting. he falls asleep with the sweet image of honey-coloured hair and freckles sprinkled all over soft cheeks and bumpy nose.

he wakes up with the dreadful feeling of being a monster.

  
  


chapter II --  pulvis et umbra sumus. ( _ we are but dust and shadow. _ )

 

there are like, five chairs in the room. bright white, blaring against woojin’s tired eyes. three boys, two girls. each and every one presents himself -- there’s seungmin, who lost his father and struggles with it every fucking day of his life. woojin recalls meeting him through jeongin, his little brother’s ex-boyfriend. there’s momo, her soft face darkened by something she lost and can’t verbalize yet. there’s dahyun, right by her side, rubbing soft circles on the back of her hand.

and then there’s chan.

 

chan seems to be okay. he tells his story with sweet smiles and pauses to remember the best moments of his life. he had a girlfriend, who was pregnant. they were ready, he says. they were more than ready to welcome the tender girl into their own little world, to shower her with so much love that she would grow fed up of them in a few years.

but the world, the world wasn’t ready to let them be happy. it didn’t work out -- the sweet pumpkin wasn’t strong enough, she died inside her mother’s womb. eight months. it broke him, her, but most of all it broke them.

 

“but i’m okay now. i’m here to help.” it sounds empty but hopeful, the holes of his past filled up with the warm prospect of a brighter future. woojin envies him. he wishes he could think like that, even when he lost what was supposed to embody his future.

 

it feels like a crime scene, when they all turn to him. he deciphers indifference in seungmin’s eyes, selfishness eating away anything else he could feel. he doesn’t care -- his own mind is far, far away from here, lost somewhere between a soft smile and the hollow scent of ripped open wood. he sees a strange kind of fear somewhere on momo’s face, her pearly teeth gnawing nervously at her pink glossy lips. he doesn’t blame her -- the ghost of felix’s death still haunts him in the dead of night, when he’s alone and awake on his pristine sheets.

 

woojin stays silent. he doesn’t say he killed a soft-looking australian boy, he doesn’t cry over the memory of his shallow breath and his little whines. he doesn’t weep, yet he mourns and his broken body exudes grief in thick, sticky ropes that paints the floor in shades of ebony black and crimson red. they all feel it inside the heavy silence, breath held tight as they wait for him to cut his tongue against the sharp edges of his tale.

 

chan opens his mouth first. there’s a hint of pity in his eyes when he catches woojin’s. woojin doesn’t like it.

“you don’t have to tell us now. do you want to introduce yourself?” a smile cuts through woojin’s face, empty and sharp and almost feral.

“i don’t.”

  
  


woojin goes home a few days after that, with tragedy running through his veins and gasoline inside his mouth. there’s no more ichor in his arteries, but there still is on his hands. the soft, godly blood still covers his mind and blinds his sight -- it still triggers panick attacks that weigh on his ribcage and squeeze his heart until it  _ hurts _ . hyunjin watches his brother decay, holds him through the dark nights where the moon glows red and the stars silently lament, for they lost one of them and they can’t hope to get him back.

 

“he didn’t deserve to die, wooj. but you don’t deserve to fall apart.”

it’s gentle and whispered in his ear, but the sound of felix agonizing drowns it all. it’s too soon to accept it, too soon to stop wanting to take his stead. woojin doesn’t say it, but hyunjin understands. he always does.

  
  


the second time he sits on a pristine chair, seungmin seems less angered and momo more radiant. chan hasn’t changed. there are soft red lines under his eyes and purple bags that weigh them, yet he’s still beautiful. his thousand watts grin sends shivers down woojin’s spine, forcing an embarrassed, crooked smile on his cat-like lips. seungmin talks first.

he talks about the anger, how it ran through his bones and bit at his skin until he couldn’t even feel the world around him. his father was killed by a man who wanted cash. woojin heard about it in the news -- some robbing gone wrong, a middle-aged man killed in the process. seungmin doesn’t talk about his sadness, about how empty he felt when the police knocked on his door. he couldn’t accept it. woojin still can’t.

 

momo’s voice is quivering, her girlfriend murmuring sweet nothings against the shell of her ear. she doesn’t have to say it, she can wait -- but momo doesn’t want to wait anymore. woojin still does.

she talks about hands on her waist and warm stinky breath on her neck. she explains how they pressed her on the mattress and how she kicked and how she thrashed and threw one punch after the other. he didn’t stop, even when she cried out in pain and wailed for help. no one came. no one helped.

 

the room stays silent after that, at least for a few minutes. then there’s chan, looking all soft and reassuring, who stands up and gently takes momo’s hand in his.

“it’s over now.” and it’s so simple and so short yet tears pool in momo’s eyes and run all over her cheeks, as if chan had opened a locked door with some unknown spell. dahyun is still beside her and she pours her love in her ear, arms tightly wrapped around the blond-haired’s waist.  _ don’t worry _ s and  _ i’m right here _ s fill the void of the bright room, no one daring to interrupt the moment.

 

it takes a while for momo to calm down, her face stained in salty red and candy-pink lipstick, courtesy of dahyun’s kisses peppered on her cheekbones. but when she does, anxiety shoots through woojin’s body, three pairs of expectant eyes turning towards him. he holds onto chan’s for some reason, seeking solace in his warm, confident obsidian-coloured eyes.

“my name’s kim woojin. i think i killed my boyfriend.”

 

and somehow the words start spilling on the floor, heavy in his guilt-ridden speech. he tells them about the night, how the moon was hidden behind a thick ceiling of grey clouds and how his guts didn’t feel good and how he wishes he could go back in time and risk felix’s throwing a tantrum instead of him laughing hysterically through his last-minute frenzy. he looks at chan all along and chan holds his eyes, silently encouraging him to go on. before he knows it, tears flow from his eyes and he blinks incredulously, wiping them with the back of his hand.

 

naturally, chan moves first and wraps his soft limbs around woojin’s waist and holds him tight, rubbing reassuring circles on his back. woojin cries on his shoulder, he cries  _ hard _ and fists his shirt and somehow he feels lighter, more serene. he starts to feel whole again, and it terrifies him.

  
  


chan comes to his home sometimes. he knocks on his door and numbs woojin’s doubts with his signature goofy grin and woojin’s knees feel weak. they start a kind a routine from that day -- they lie in bed for hours, cuddled up against one another and tell each other stories from their wounded past. this time is chan’s turn to begin.

“okay so, you know how i was really short, when i was young?”

“you still are, channie.” it’s always gentle, how woojin teases chan while breathing against his neck.

“whatever, big guy. anyway, what i mean is that i was  _ small _ , and i wanted to surprise my mom. so i hid between the closet and the wall, but… i fell asleep. my dad found me there like, three hours later, while mom was panicking real hard.” he laughs and woojin feels sleepy all of a sudden, soothed by the deep rumble inside chan’s chest. “you’re not listening, are you?” it’s a sigh against woojin’s hair and he can’t bring himself to care, snuggling deeper inside chan’s embrace.

 

it’s their first night together. chan was not prepared for the 3am tantrum, woken up by the older’s weak tremors, silent sobs shaking his shoulders and fingers digging painfully in chan’s back. he immediately wraps his arms around woojin and starts chanting sleep-laced nothings on his ear, stumbling over his words and unable to tell if he’s being listened to.

“it’s okay wooj, i’m here, i’m right here. you’re not alone, and you’re not at fault. breathe, yeah, just like that. you feel my chest? breathe with me, ok love? count to eight, block it. now exhale. you’re doing so good wooj, keep going.”

 

it lasts at least half an hour, with woojin bawling and shaking and vomiting his inner self-hatred and chan soothing him and keeping him grounded and listening to every word he says. he keeps them in the back of his mind, unable to say anything clever at the moment. woojin doesn’t mind, clenching his soaked shirt with his fists and wishing the panick would go away. piece by piece by piece he bares himself for chan to see, every scar re-opening until his body is raw and there’s more flesh than skin. each fear is ripped off his throat and woojin feels lighter but also weaker, falling asleep right through his regret-laced stuttered speech. chan doesn’t mind.

  
  


chapter III -- non nobis solum nati sumus ( _ not for ourselves only are we born _ )

 

“hey wooj, have you ever fallen in love?” they’re sitting on the floor, feeding on overcooked instant noodles with too much soy sauce and too little water. woojin’s legs are thrown over chan’s lap and there’s  _ princess mononoke _ that plays on the screen, half-ignored by the boys in favor of looking at each other. he ponders over it, licking his lips clean with a little pout - a few months prior, he would’ve said yes. he would’ve confessed that he was in love with a starboy, glistening with the moon’s light against his skin and constellation all over his cheeks. he would’ve talked about felix’s habit of munching on his lips and how he used to pick carnations for his mother to forgive him.

 

now he slips between stars and magnolias, thinks about freckles and milky skin; his fingers card through chan’s hair and a soft smile stretches his lips. “i don’t think so. i was always in love with the feeling, i think. how about you?” his voice strains a little over the question, as if he was scared of the answer. he wants to embrace chan’s past, but the pang of jealousy that carves fear against his bones tells otherwise. “yeah. i loved jihyo. i thought i would spend my life with her. but i don’t regret breaking up with here, i guess. we weren’t meant to be.” he’s whispering gentle words and there’s no love left around his vowels, as though trying to reassure woojin. it’s silly, he thinks - there’s no love either between them, no outspoken romance in the way they touch each other.

 

***

 

**03:28 a.m, woojin (unsent):** _ you make me quiet. i was not supposed to be quiet. i had a voice made to shake the world and everything in between - would you have me still if i was a god? _

**03:30 a.m, woojin (unsent):** _ everyone i love leaves me. am i that hard to love? i don’t want you to leave. _

**04:08 a.m, woojin:** hey, are you awake?

**04:10 a.m, chan:**  yeah, what’s up?

**04:11 a.m, woojin:** not much. wanna see how much stars we can count tonight?

**04:11 a.m, chan:** of course. be there in 10!

 

it’s disturbing, somehow, the way they aren’t sleeping at four in the morning. they don’t question it - woojin’s thumb grazes against chan’s eyebag with a sigh and an amused smile. their fingers intertwine and his heart grows inside his ribcage; he doesn’t say anything but chan hears it anyway, pulling him into his lap. silence fills the gaps inside woojin’s soul, barely disrupted by their breathing. everything falls into place as his eyes search for chan’s, counting the sparkles he can decipher in the dark.

 

“hi,” he whispers with a bit of insecurity dripping from the monosyllabic word. chan laughs a little and lets his fingers graze over his hips, the tips hot against woojin’s skin. “hey, starlight. how you doin’?” a smug grin graces his lips as he lets it roll on his tongue. the petname sends shivers down woojin, yet he’s too proud to let it show. “joey, really? damn, we’re old.” he buries his nose in chan’s neck, breathing in the musky scent - chan smells like a bonfire and something that seems a lot like love. his grip on woojin tightens as he nuzzles his throat, pressing feather-like kisses on the patch of skin; sleepiness guides his step and he chases the moon when his teeth close on a star-shaped birthmark, just below chan’s ear.

 

“wooj, what are you doing?” his laugh is a bit breathless, hands snaking under his shirt to hold him even closer - woojin doesn’t answer immediately, sucking a poppy on his collarbone with a teasing smirk. “i don’t know.” and it’s dripping with honesty because he’s  _ lost _ and too needy to hold himself back. “should i stop?” a soft whine, under his breath - they’re both tired and a bit broken on the inside yet it feels so natural when chan cups his face and brushes his lips with his own, tasting forever on the tip of his tongue and chasing feelings between his teeth.

 

it’s slow, tender and comforting, covering their wounds with stardust and promises of endless, unspoken love. it feels like  _ kintsugi _ , each kiss repairing their broken hearts and woojin swallows chan’s silent sorrows and chan licks the scars that felix left on his soul - it’s not much but it’s enough for now, fingers lost in hair and the moon bathing them in a dusted, ethereal light.

they fall asleep with each other’s taste on their tongue, and a silly smile stretching their swollen lips.

  
  


the next morning, chan wakes up first. he’s feeling sore and his arm is numb under woojin’s weight, but he doesn’t care. he watches how sleep softens the boy’s features, his breath peaceful as he nuzzles deeper into chan’s embrace; he thinks of how he could spend the next eternity like that, just breathing in the other’s presence. it’s soothing and the sun is barely up, the light licking yellow and orange on their skin.

 

woojin stirs awake half an hour later, a lazy smile softening his face. “morning”, he whispers tiredly, pressing a soft kiss against his throat. “sorry, am i too heavy?” he giggles a bit and climbs off of chan’s lap after a last press of his lips against the milky skin, heart pounding in his chest.

 

“mom’s probably out working, and i think hyunjin’s still asleep. wait for me in the kitchen, i’ll go and wash up a bit.” his fingertips tingle when chan squeezes them gently, and he’s still on edge when he jumps on the kitchen counter with a mug of hot cocoa warming his hands. “you got any plan for today?” chan’s munching on a slice of bread and looking at him with too much stars in his eyes and a few nebulae between his teeth - he swallows lazily and shakes his head, fighting back a smile. “nah. wanna hang out?” “why not.” woojin shrugs and tries to act nonchalant, but the glint in his retinae betrays him.

 

they end up spending the major part of the day on woojin’s bed, the latter on chan’s lap, trapping him between his legs. it had started soft and caring, small pecks shared with giggles and teasing nips - but now woojin’s getting bold, his groin pressing into chan’s and his tongue swiping on the roof of his mouth. their breath is getting laboured, hitching as woojin rolls his hips against him; chan bites his bottom lip and licks into his mouth with a breathy moan, his fingers playing along the hem of woojin’s shirt. he asks for permission against his lips and takes it off, diving right after to press open-mouthed kisses on his chest - chan nudges his shoulders to make him lay on the bed, sliding between his legs.

 

“don’t move, and enjoy. i’m gonna draw a constellation on you, starlight. try and find which it is.” he winks and dives right in, starting at the junction of woojin’s throat and chest - he sucks diligently and the boy thrashes under him, his hands already flying to grasp his hair. the second star shines a few inches below, right over his left collarbone; it has woojin biting his lip to hold a moan back, breathing deeply through his nose. he lets out a startled laugh as chan soothes the hickey with the flat of his tongue, leaving instead a scorching trail of saliva. he goes on with two love bites further down and left, then another at the right edge of his chest, just above the nipple - it makes woojin groan in frustration, mumbling something about  _ not finding it funny anymore _ . chan laughs against his skin and ends with a star between his ribs and, finally, another right above his belly button. “there you go.”

 

that’s when he takes the time to look at woojin, and his breath gets stuck in his throat - there’s chocolate brown locks on his eyes, glistening with a thin layer of sweat; his face, ears and the upper part of his chest are flushed, like poppies petals fanning over a mug of coffee drown in milk. “wooj, you’re gorgeous.” he starts peppering butterfly kisses all over his face, earning himself a few choked-up laughs. “shut it you asshole, i look like a whore. so, what’s the cluster?” he locks chan between his arms and presses a soft kiss against his lips, looking all expectant and kind of rushed. chan beams, heart heavy withy pride and rapture and something deeper. “aquila.”

 

and then he’s back to kissing every inch of woojin’s body, worshipping each patch of skin that his mouth can reach - he goes on for a good ten minutes and would’ve spent the rest of the day discovering his birthmarks and the little scars studding the smooth skin, but suddenly woojin flips them over with a frustrated sigh and traps him between his thighs. he looks like sex in legs, dishevelled and a little breathless - but the worse is in his eyes, in the dark glint filled with lust and want. “i think you’ve played long enough, tribbiani. it’s my turn.” he smirks and makes little work of chan’s shirt and pants, hooking his fingers under the hem of his underwear. “so, what should i do?” chan visibly gulps and grips his hips out of pure instinct, tearing another laugh out of woojin’s abused throat. he licks his lips and bends over him, rolling his hips down onto chan’s. the shift in their roles is barely visible but chan feels it anyway and pushes him away, stripping him of his pants with a little more haste and lots of apprehension - woojin lifts up and feels like a teenager all over again, shivering under his heated gaze.

 

“don’t look at me like that.” “like what?” “like i’m going to disappear.” and chan doesn’t answer, but he thinks so loudly that woojin hears him anyway.  _ honey, you’re like the moon - you’re going to disappear anyway. but that’s okay, i’m a  _ queen of the night _. i can only bloom when you shine. _ he kisses magnolias on his thighs and enjoys how woojin arches when he licks in between, hands flying again to grab his hair - it’s rush and he just wants to let go, fucking into his mouth with barely held back groans. his thrusts are embarrassingly out of rhythm and he feels chan giggling against his shaft, until he steadies his hips and sinks and sinks and- “ _ oh my god. _ ”

 

woojin gasps as he hits the back of his relaxed throat, no gag reflex ruining the moment; he chokes back a loud moan and just shudders under chan’s tongue, who’s rolling it around woojin’s cock and makes him see the stars shining above the ceiling. he hollows his cheeks and takes it all over again, applying just enough pressure to make woojin’s running out of breath and kind of risks to come on the spot - he yanks chan off of him and winces as he sees his swollen lips, glistening with pre-come and saliva. he looks divine and the smirk that stretches on his face makes woojin want to be fucked right there and now. “sorry, didn’t want to come too fast.”

 

chan chuckles and kiss his inner thigh, biting another love mark before he climbs back on woojin and steals a heated kiss, nudging his tongue out to suck on it - it leaves them both dizzy and drunk on the feeling, then chan is nipping his jaw and woojin’s about to collapse. “where do you keep your lube and condom?” that’s when it gets a little bit awkward - woojin wants to sigh in relief, for he didn’t feel like taking chan. he leans over his bedside table and pulls a pink, glittery bottle out of the second drawer, along with a scented condom. chan can’t help but snort, enjoying the reddish mist taking over his lover’s upper body. “i knew you liked strawberry, but to this extent…” woojin groans and pinches his side with a pout, hitting him with the bottle. “fuck you, bang chan. i’m a man with dignity and grace.”

 

rather than answering him, chan smirks and shoves him on the bed again, sliding between his legs and swiftly covering his fingers with a thick layer of lube. woojin’s heartbeat becomes erratic again, his own hands gripping the bed sheets - the first knuckle is the hardest, woojin being used to be the top. chan does his best to distract him, kissing praises on his skin and giving him all the time in the world to get used to it; only when woojin rocks back on his finger does he add a second, effectively shutting the whining boy up. it’s too much and not enough at the same time, until chan adds a third finger and twists them in the right way - it hits his prostate and rips a throaty moan out of his mouth, his hands raising up to claw at chan’s back.

 

“i’m okay, i’m okay. hurry the fuck up or i’m gonna come right now and leave you behind.” it makes chan laugh but even then, it’s strained and laced with pent-up tension - then woojin hears something being torn open and anxiety gets the best of him; it’s their first time, it’s going to be  _ awful _ and woojin hasn’t even been fucked in years. so he grabs chan’s arms and shoots him an unsure look, gnawing on his bottom lip. “listen, i haven’t bottomed in like, forever. take it slow, okay?” chan just cups his face and presses a gentle kiss on his lips, nudging him until he stops biting on it - then he covers his shaft in lube and aligns himself with woojin, without breaking eye contact.

 

it’s awfully intimate, the way chan looks at him while he slowly, gently enters; it takes them four tries until woojin finally relaxes enough, and every time he asks chan to stop he does, whispering praises and sweet nothings inside his ear. “are you okay?” this time he’s deep inside and woojin’s frowning, waiting for the pain to subside - he nods weakly and chan, being the sweet attentive lover he is, grabs his hips and withdraws carefully, seeking any sign of discomfort on woojin’s face. when he sees none, he dives back in and kisses him, swallowing each and every moan that leaves the older’s mouth.

 

they find a pace, eventually - it’s slow and sensual, almost unbearably. woojin lifts his hips in rhythm and he feels every inch of chan’s cock as it rubs inside him, hitting his sweet spot every time. but when he whispers  _ faster _ he almost feels bad for making chan hold back this long; it soons becomes feral, yet even as he’s pounding into woojin chan pecks his cheeks and eyelids and hums nothings against his earshell. in his drunk-in-love state, woojin catches something like  _ fuck, you’re tight _ and  _ it feels amazing _ but it falls in a blur of sweet words and hips meeting, pleasure pooling inside his stomach.

 

it doesn’t take long before the thrusts fall out of rhythm and chan gets a little desperate - woojin spurs him on by scratching his shoulder blades and his thoughts vocalize in a flood of mindless words and then, suddenly, he stills and traps him in a bone-crushing embrace, clawing his name in his back. chan comes seconds later, due to the unbearable tightening of his lover; they stay like that for a while, woojin’s nails deep in his shoulders and chan biting forever in the pit of his neck.

 

“shit, wooj, next time, do warn me. i thought my cock was gonna pop off.” that’s when woojin pushes him off of him, hissing as he pulls out. “fuck you, you’re fucking gross.” chan laughs a little out of breath and heaves out a sigh against his neck, nuzzling him close enough to get lost in one another’s scent. it’s soothing, really, the way they fit like puzzle pieces - somehow, it faintly reminds woojin of the nights he spent in felix’s arms, kissing the freckles on his skin and lulling him to sleep. he pushes that thought to the back of his mind and presses his lips on chan’s temple, drawing random patterns on his shoulder blade. “let’s sleep. we’ll get cleaned tomorrow.”

 

he regrets it, really, when the morning comes and he’s feeling sore and really fucking dirty; he whines in chan’s hair and breathes his smell in so deeply he gets a little dizzy. “morning, starlight.” it’s soft and laced with sleep and so much feelings it sends shivers down woojin’s spine - later, they both realize that he didn’t wake up in the middle of the night, for once. it leaves a bittersweet taste on his tongue but he hides it well, shooting chan a carefully faked smile. if chan notices the dull light in his eyes, he doesn’t call him out on it; woojin silently thanks him with a kiss a few hours after that.

 

they work so well it’s almost frightening - sometimes chan seems to guess what woojin likes, ordering food for him without even asking him what he wants. it feels off, in a way; but he needs it. he needs the familiarity, needs to be pampered and taken cared of, so he lets it slide with some half-assed excuse - “he used to work with the psychiatrist, of course he’s good at understanding people”. but hyunjin, hyunjin is heartbroken. he sees awful in the tenderness of love, notices snakes in one’s mouth and tries hard to lick his own wounds clean. so, of course, when woojin whispers to him the faint doubts he holds behind his teeth, he sees red.

 

“wooj’, you’ve known him for, like, a few months. hell, felix hasn’t even been dead for a year!” and it hurts - it’s sharp because his death anniversary is in a couple of weeks and woojin has been trying to forget about it. realization dawns on hyunjin’s face and he bites his lip in guilt, squeezing tight when woojin tries to break from their embrace. “let me go, i don’t want to talk anymore.” woojin’s voice is hoarse, raw from holding back a wet sob.

 

“no, i’m sorry, please don’t leave me.” hyunjin licks his lips nervously and hides in his brother’s neck, heaving out a shuddering breath. “you’ve seen what love did to me. i don’t want you to go through that, not after the accident.” woojin doesn’t answer but his hold gets tighter, his lips press comforting kisses on the younger’s hair - they fall asleep like that, tangled and barely covered by the bedsheets.

woojin wakes up around 4a.m with a lump in his throat and tears on his cheeks and panic tattooed on his skin; he spends the next hour in silent and controlled sobs and thinks about the stars, the moon, flowers and  _ chan _ . deep down, under the anxiety ripping at his skin and biting his flesh off, he lets out a bitter laugh.  _ thanks little brother, but i think it’s too late. _

 

***

 

“you know, you look like a bear. and you hug like one.” chan mumbles on woojin’s shoulder, pressed against him in a tight embrace - the latter laughs a little and shrugs, squeezing him even harder. “i missed you, fucker. where have you been?” it’s a few weeks later, chan having warned him that he’d be going back home for a family event. woojin had said nothing and let him go easily, even though it meant he had to go through felix’s anniversary on his own.

 

(well, not exactly on his own. there was his mum, first; she kissed him and held him tight enough that he felt five years old again, with his knee scraped and cheeks red with dried tears. but he wasn’t five, his knee wasn’t wounded and he hadn’t cried. instead he was dull, a bit absent-minded. no one blamed him - that was his way of dealing with it. felix’s family wasn’t there either, the poor boy having been brought back to and buried in australia; woojin swallowed his anger and frustration, weeped over the void left by his lover. kissed the crimson hoodie hidden in his closet - the one that felix used to wear, drowned in the oversized cloth. it was cute, really, the way he laughed and waved his sweat-paws when he wanted woojin’s attention.

 

hyunjin was also there. he held his hand when they had to go to the living room and squeezed it hard when their uncle snorted, mumbling about  _ queer boys unable to man up _ . they planned on enduring it with tight lips and cold stares but hyunjin - hyunjin wasn’t one to be silent. he was a wildfire and somewhere in the middle of the event woojin was the supportive one, trying to keep a steel hold on the younger, to prevent him from punching their uncle square in the face. “i want to do it as much as you, hyun. but don’t. not now, please.” a whisper. it took a whisper to soothe the trembling of his fingers - jeongin’s name had flown out of a few mouths, laced with unnecessary curiosity and awkward gazes towards hyunjin. no one really knew how it went, except woojin and their mother; divorce ripped them apart and, somehow, jeongin had left with hyunjin’s heart in his pocket.

 

momo, dahyun and seungmin were there, too. they just didn’t stay, opting to give the mourning boys a quick hug and a sorry smile. it wasn’t awkward but rather warm and comforting and, for the first time in a long time, woojin offered them to go out for a drink some day. he felt refreshed, if a little too honest and a bit tipsy on champagne.)

 

“it’s not important, starlight. how have you been? i’m sorry i wasn’t there for the anniversary, was it as awful as i think?” woojin ponders over the question for a bit, thinking about making him feel bad - thinking about emphasizing the night that followed the meeting, about how he spent it in chan’s abandoned clothes and kept wishing on a star, hoping they would bring him back to him. instead, he lets his lips stretch in a reassuring smile and strokes his lover’s cheek with the pad of his thumb, shaking his head. “nah, i had to focus on not letting hyunjin break my uncle’s nose. the asshole’s spent the evening grumbling about faggots and ungrateful wives. i think he’s mad that jeongin’s mother was never his.”

 

chan kisses his thumb and sighs in relief, pressing his lips against woojin’s next - he pours everything they can’t say yet in each kiss that he gives and woojin swallows it all with greed and pride, whispering sweet nothings inside his mouth, against his neck and under his jaw. they make love under the moonlight and woojin - woojin doesn’t hear the stars’ warning, too engrossed in the boy’s moans, in the grunts that he huffs on his golden skin. he feels immortal, and forgets about his absence.

chapter IV --  _ per aspera ad astra _ (through hardships to the stars)

 

“you know, this chan dude. he’s familiar.” woojin’s lazily munching on a slice of pizza, sprawled on the floor in front of jisung’s telly. hyunjin’s gone out to smoke a cigarette, in spite of jisung’s deadly glare - old habits die hard, and jeongin’s name once again slipped from one of their mouths (hint: it was jisung’s). “really?” the younger nods as he pours an excessive amount of spicy oil on his pizza, his brows knitted in deep thinking. “yeah, i think i heard of him like, ages ago. something related to felix.” he ends his sentence looking like a deer caught in headlights, internally cursing his inability to shut his mouth - woojin’s soft smile soothes his nerves and he keeps on drowning his meal with spices. “well, might have been from me, or hyun. we’ve known him for a good while, now.” jisung nods again, more careful and skeptical - it’s okay, woojin thinks. he’s just worried.

 

“so. how’s it going with minho?” that’s when hyunjin barges in, already looking pissed and flaming with rage. “we  _ do not _ speak about this cunt.” he sits heavily on the floor and pulls jisung in his lap, squeezing him hard enough to tear a tiny, breathless squeal. they laugh a little, innocent and tipsy on cheap beer; woojin gets dragged in a clumsy group hug and bathes in the warm affection, feeling content and peaceful.

 

***

 

maybe he should have known, in a way. something was off; it was so beautiful, so calming and refreshing. but woojin was wild - he was a forest fire, he was a wounded beast. he wasn’t made to be calm, to be soothed; and perhaps that’s why chan wasn’t ready to come out, to write the hidden truth in his mind and scar him with the sharpness of his dirty secrets.

 

it all happens during one sunny, mildly hot day - not all tragedies unfold under the rain, most of them wreck us when we least expect it.

they are sprawled out on chan’s parents’ couch, idly watching some dumb tv show, when woojin notices a picture frame, laid on the fireplace’s counter.

 

“what’s that?”

 

something immediately changes in chan’s behaviour, like an unknown switch turned on; he koffs and tries to shrug casually. woojin didn’t plan to force a confession out of him - he isn’t one to insist - but chan’s mother is another story. so, of course, when she hears them, she jumps on the occasion to join the conversation; she grabs the frame and almost shoves it in woojin’s face, her eyes teary and bottom lip wobbling.

 

“it’s a picture of chan and his late cousin, felix. he died a year and a half ago, and was buried in australia. chan loved him, but right when we decided to come and join them in south korea, the poor boy had an accident. a tragedy, really. i heard he was with two other boys, but i haven’t heard anything about them…”

 

she goes on and on about the mystery boys and woojin’s feeling dizzy on her rant, his eyes boring holes in chan’s own. it could be sharp, it could be emotional - it could be scorching but it’s cold. it’s a cold, dull kind of pain that seeps inside his veins and twists around his bones and squeezes hard enough to break it. woojin stands up, abrupt and stiff and looking like a rusty robot, his lips dry, his eyes wet.

 

“i think i need to go. thank you for your kindness, mrs. bang, but i have to leave now. goodbye.”

 

he doesn’t look at chan when he closes the door - his heart beats painfully in his chest yet he feels emptier than ever. he calls hyunjin with a shaky voice, and cries silent tears in his neck.

 

***

 

chan calls. chan comes to his house and asks to see him. chan’s nose ends up broken in a fist fight with hyunjin, but doesn’t reciprocate. chan throws little stones at woojin’s window, somewhere around 4a.m. chan sends woojin flowers and endless texts, climbs the tree next to woojin’s window in the afternoon to slide notes under it. chan gets desperate, cries and yells when he’s alone, when he thinks no one can hear him. woojin does. he hears it all - but he doesn’t answer.

 

woojin weeps. woojin stays locked up in his room and ignores every person that knocks on his door. woojin’s eyes fill with salty tears and hurts him. woojin tries to throw the polaroid photographs that he took with chan, somewhere around 4a.m. woojin disregards chan’s attempts to contact him, closes his shades and cries some more. woojin gets desperate, cries and yells when he’s alone, when he thinks no one can hear him. chan does. he hears it all - but he can’t answer.

 

it quiets down after a few weeks, after hyunjin gets particularly aggressive and threatens chan to quite literally kill him if he tires one more time to bother woojin - somehow it’s disappointing, not hearing the soft, muffled noise of the rocks thrown at his window. to not hear hyunjin shuffling in his room to steal the notes hung on the edge of his window. to open his shades just a bit, hoping to see a mop of curly hair and honest regret painted on soft features. it’s disappointing, to hurt alone in the dark.

 

“that’s it, i’m done. i’m coming in, you fucking twat!”

 

jisung barges in with a frowny face and pouty lips, looking more like an angry puppy than the menacing man he’s supposed to embody - it shakes a small smile out of woojin, although it’s tired and short-lived.

 

“han jisung, you are one impolite motherfucker.”

“language!”

 

his mother, seemingly hidden behind hyunjin, tries to sound stern; yet it ends up a little hopeful, as if curses might mean that woojin is getting better.

 

“seriously, you’ve been moping around your room for two long fucking weeks since the fucker stopped stalking you. i need my shot of bear-hugs and, jesus christ, it  _ stinks _ in here!” jisung draws the curtains and forces daylight into the room, before ushering the exhausted soul to his bathroom. “go, you heathen. wash up, we’re going out tonight and you, my friend, are getting smashed drunk.”

“i’m sure mum isn’t goin-”

“you can go, sweetheart. you need this.”

 

she giggles and finally pops from behind his little brother, looking like a tiny devil with her smirk and blushy pink cheeks. betrayed by his own blood and soul, woojin heaves an impressive lazy sigh before strolling to the bathroom, while jisung rummages through his closet - probably to find him clothes that would fit him for a night out.

  
  


“you know, i should’ve seen it coming. it was, like, too perfect. and he knew things he shouldn’t have known - maybe felix told him? man, i can’t believe he hid it from me.” tears pool in his eyes but he swallows them back with another gulp of raw vodka, getting used to the burning sensation in his throat. he’s already too drunk to spell his own name, yet he wants  _ more _ .

 

“i don’t know, dude. did you ask him?” minho asks him in slurred words, licking the rim of his empty glass. woojin ponders over it, replaying the last time he’s seen him, and shakes his head, slow and careful. “maybe you should’ve. maybe he has a good reason, you know?”

 

woojin pouts and shoves him playfully, poorly concealing a soft smile. “shut up, minho. you almost broke my brother’s best friend just ‘cause you’re a coward, you don’t get to give me advices on my love life.”

 

“precisely, you dumbass. don’t make the same mistakes, hear the man out. or at least stop talking about him, he’s boring. let’s talk about me instead, yeah?” minho shoots him a blinding grin and proceeds to rant about his boring week and how jisung doesn’t give him as much attention as he did before they started dating. jisung and hyunjin come back with another round of drinks and woojin downs his own in a single gulp, before guiding his boys on the dancefloor and losing himself to the pounding music.

 

it takes little time for him to catch someone’s eyes - he jumps from a cute, plump girl to a way-too-old guy and ignores the disapproving look that jisung throws at him, choosing instead to let his arm dangle from the stranger’s nape, sometimes letting his fingers slide in oily hair; it becomes too much when nasty breath mixes up with the already smelly club and woojin breaks away from his uncomfortable embrace, sitting back on his friends’ booth in a tired, bored sigh.

 

just when he starts thinking about stargazing with fingers between his own, a soft head laying on his thighs, someone plops down next to him, displaying a smile so gentle and kind that it seems suspicious. “hi, i’m jungwoo. minho sends me. i mean, i wanted to come, obviously, but i couldn’t find the courage. but minho- minho told me you were alone, so. hi.”

 

woojin laughs a little, barely forced but still natural. “you already said that. but alright, hi, jungwoo.” it’s a bit odd, the way his curls fall on his forehead and nape - how his lips are plump but not too much, just enough to be tempting. if woojin stares at it for too long, jungwoo doesn’t say it.

 

they talk a bit - as much as the music lets them, forcing them to yell and hurt their throat so hard that woojin ends up dragging the poor boy out of the club, making them sit on the bench of a nearby park. “minho told me- he told me you were out of a shitty relationship. is that true? i guess it is, or else he wouldn’t have said it, but-”

 

“jungwoo, you speak too much.” and, just like that, confidence fueled by the alcohol in his veins, he tips his chin with a press of his forefinger and presses a gentle kiss on his lips, all smiles and peaceful eyes. “let’s not  talk about that yeah? don’t want to kill the moo-” but jungwoo doesn’t let him finish, stealing his lips with eager and proud dripping behind his teeth.

 

it starts off kind and a bit clumsy, laced with the uncertainty of someone who hasn’t been kissed that much - woojin guides him with comforting press of his mouth, biting at his bottom lip and relishing on the soft moan he earns. soon it gets breathtaking, hands sliding against and under unwanted clothes, tongues clashing in a playful battle. woojin gasps, pulls away, wipes at the boy’s lips. “easy, tiger. yours or mine?” jungwoo grins and takes his hand, impatient and dizzy.

  
  


he wakes up with the taste of bile in his mouth and his back pressed against something warm and firm - he jumps awake and regrets it immediately, the thrumming headache shooting through his skull and breaking it in several places. he turns to the stranger peacefully sleeping next to him and takes in the soft features, curly locks falling on his forehead; the resemblance with chan is so obvious it hurts even more than his hangover.  _ well done, you absolute shithead _ . he gets up and scribbles a vague note to leave on the bedside table, before scurrying to the bathroom and try to freshen up a bit.

 

big mistake - when he gets back, planning on gathering his belongings then leave the boy to nurse his own hangover and guilt, said boy is wide awake, shooting him a lazy but content smile. “so, you think yesterday was enjoyable, and you’ll call me, mh?” he laughs and pats the empty side of the bed, gentle. “don’t leave so fast, darling. i promised you that i would make you breakfast today, didn’t i?”

 

_ did he? _ it’s all a bit confusing, but then there’s jungwoo’s arms around his middle, his lips against his neck. that, woojin can handle - they get lost in a second round (or a fifth, according to jungwoo’s clear memory) and woojin suddenly doesn’t want to leave, to get back to his gloomy, lonely room when there’s a shiny boy right beside him, waiting to be eaten up.

 

***

 

he’s decided to give it a shot - ends up dating a small, quiet and shy puppy that gets really enthusiastic in bed and, in a way, he’s happy. he likes jungwoo, likes his hugs and his shy kisses; likes his silent gazes and his soft smiles; likes how he wakes him up gently when he needs to go to work and how he doesn’t blame him when he whimpers chan’s name under their sheets. it goes on for a solid two months before something cracks.

 

the routine - woojin doesn’t like it. he enjoys uncertainty, thrives in the unknown of a new day. he takes jungwoo to the forest at 3a.m and kisses him under the stars - jungwoo kisses back but it’s tired and a little upset. he tries to convince him to road trip together - “you, me and this old van i’ve just finished repairing.  _ please. _ ” - but failed - “no, wooj’, i have responsibilities here!”. he should’ve known better than to start dating an ER nurse.

 

but woojin takes it all in, swallows it in a single gulp and shuts his frustration up; he tries to tell himself it’s for them when, really, it’s for  _ him _ . the dread of being left alone, once gain - the fear of facing life without arms around his hips, lips against his own, a heartbeat to lull him to sleep. jungwoo sees it, feels it, hates it.

 

and there’s chan, of course. not really here, but still very much present - he’s in the scars on woojin’s thigh, a souvenir of that one time they almost broke their neck while making out on a tree’s branch. he’s in the pictures hidden under woojin’s bed, right beside the box containing felix-related memories. most of all, he’s on woojin’s lips when his brain short-circuits, hit by a wave of jungwoo-induced pleasure.

 

“woojin, i can’t do this anymore.”

it was bound to happen - woojin has seen it coming, and holds the tears back. he bites his lip, shoots a wavy smile. “i know. i’m sorry, it looks like i’ve been using you to forget about him.”  _ it’s precisely what i’ve been doing _ , he doesn’t say. “but i like you, and i do care about you.” and it’s true, it’s painfully true; guilt eats him away as he closes the door, knowing that their  _ don’t be a stranger _ are as empty as their  _ call me, yeah? _

 

he silently goes back to his room, doesn’t call hyunjin nor jisung, and gets high on the last blunts he hid in chan’s box. they’re the ones that he made with him, a few hours before the unfolding of their own tragedy - they were supposed to smoke them and then have sex on the roof of a random building, for all the stars to see. instead he’s burning his lungs with longing and ache in the darkness of his room, lonely and sobbing quietly.

  
  


the panic attacks come back twice as hard; he wakes up sweaty and teary and there’s no ichor in his veins anymore, just a whole lot of anxiety and regret that mixes with the blood and makes him suffocate. he burns a picture that night, and cries for another hour. nothing felt more painful than to watch a beautiful smile turn to dust.

 

he writes to felix the next day. wonders what he would say, if he saw how miserable he felt -  _ damn, felix, it’s not even because of you. well, somehow, it is. you’ve ruined my relationship with your handsome cousin, you fucker. _ woojin laughs, alone and high. he takes another deep drag of his blunt and watches the smoke reach the roof, touching the stars like a long lost friend. he falls asleep in felix’s hoodie holding chan’s scarf, his face and eyes red and puffy from the crying more than the weed he burnt.

  
  


“it feels familiar.” his mother is leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed and worry written in her tiny eye wrinkles - woojin buries himself in his blankets and groans in reply, not wanting to be disturbed. “so, you gonna talk to me someday, or?” he grunts and shoots her a half-assed glare, betrayed by the smile stretching on his tired lips. “thought so.” she sits on the edge of his bed and lets her fingers thread through his hair, her face all soft and patient.

 

“i don’t know what to do, mum. he lied to me, and now he’s not even trying to reach me anymore, so. i should’ve let him explain himself.” he leans into her mother’s touch and sighs long and empty, regret slipping between his teeth. “you still can, honey.”

 

she takes a deep inhale and her hand trembles in woojin’s locks, uncertain and a bit nervous. “you know, he tried to get to you a few days ago. you were with jungwoo, and i told him. i think he wanted to cry, and he gave me this. you should read it, and make a decision afterwards. but think about it, yeah?” he barely nods as she hands him a carefully sealed letter, chan’s cologne invading his scent as soon as he presses the paper.

 

once alone, his nose buried in the scarf, he takes a few moments to collect himself before opening it - careful to not rip the envelope. he reads it slowly, lets the spilled ink drip into his soul and drinks it until he’s choking on black and pink words, sobs pooling at the back of his throat.

 

he takes his phone out and presses a few buttons, vision blurred by stray tears. the line is picked up and he clears his throat, voice strained and watery. “hey. meet me in the forest clearing in ten.” he hangs up and jumps through his window.

  
  


chapter V --  _ omnia mutantur, nihil interit _ (everything changes, nothing perishes)

 

_ hey, wooj. _

_ i’ve been rewriting this fucking letter for at least six hours, and i still can’t get it right. i’m not really skilled with my words, you know? i don’t think i could be, with you. there’s nothing clear between us, but one single thing: i’m deeply, unconditionally and helplessly in love with you. _

 

_ it wasn’t supposed to happen. i was there to help you cope with felix’s - my cousin’s - death, as the… cousin of you lover. hell, i wasn’t even supposed to lose him. he told me, one day, that if he were to marry you, i would be his best man; yet here i am, falling for his bride and desperately trying to win him back. _

 

_ i think you deserve explanations. i’ve been trying to give them to you for weeks, but i guess i understand why you don’t want to see me. i’m sorry, wooj. i’m sorry for lying to you, sorry for hiding so much. i don’t think i wanted to protect you from the truth - i think i wanted to protect myself from your reaction. i was a coward, and i regret it. i wanted to tell you from the first day, but you looked… you looked so tired, yet so pretty. the ethereal type, and i choked on my words, i was greedy. _

_ i’m sorry for betraying you and your friends. i was so lost; and now i can’t even face myself. _

 

_ but i’m not sorry for falling in love with you. i’m proud of it, even. you’re a forest fire, dear, and you burnt me down - but i’m fine with it. _

_ i’m going back to australia in a few days. i don’t think i deserve to see you again, but i wanted you to read this. i’m sorry. i love you, and i won’t ever forget you. take care of yourself, my moon. _

 

woojin’s squeezing the paper harshly when he finally stops at the clearing, staring at the boy already waiting for him. chan looks up, eyes sheepish and reddened by the tears, the fatigue and everything in between. woojin licks his lips and holds the letter high in front of him, fuming. “are you -- fucking -- kidding me?”

 

chan winces and gets up from his seat, taking small steps until he’s right before his lover. “i’m not.” woojin shudders, waits a second, and breaks down; he throws his arms around chan and squeezes  _ hard _ , climbing and clinging on him as he sobs in his neck. “don’t go. don’t leave me.” it’s soft and vulnerable and whined against his skin and chan lowers himself down until he’s sitting on the grass, his lap full of a crying woojin. “shh, don’t cry starlight, you can’t. not for me.” and woojin’s suddenly in front of him, angry and holy and looking like a new god bathed in moonlight - chan takes the sight in, right before he gets punched square in the face. “don’t fucking tell me what to do!”

 

woojin hits him again, hurts his fingers against chan’s nose but chan doesn’t stop him, he takes it all in and merely winces; he goes as far as watching woojin all along, until blood drips from above his eye, blurring his vision. woojin throws punches after punches, each one weaker than the former - it swiftly becomes ridiculous, his own face covered in tears and snot. but he keeps going and there’s a strange kind of thrill running through his veins, a held back desire that scared him when he was fifteen and punching his father for calling his mum a whore. “you fucking asshole, always deciding for others! you decided that i was too weak to handle you being felix’s cousin, then that i hated you and now you think you can tell me that  _ i _ don’t get to cry for you? no you fucking don’t, chan!  _ i _ get to decide what’s best for me, and  _ you _ have to fucking trust me.”

 

his voice is hoarse from crying and yelling and he wipes his nose on his sleeve, straddling the bloodied boy with weak thighs. he punches him one last time on the shoulder, feeble and entirely out of spite. “why won’t you punch me back…” he whispers and takes his time to admire his work, half-horrified half-proud of the result. “i ruined your face.” chan giggles - he  _ giggles _ and lifts a hand to caress his cheek. “no you didn’t. this face can’t be ruined by your pretty fingers.”

 

and he means it, in a strange, disturbed kind of way; woojin could choke him to death right now, chan would thank him and whisper his name in his last breath. he should be frightened by the strength of his feelings, should try to get away from him - he was about to but here, splayed out on the grass, his chest painfully tight and face hurting so hard he can barely stay awake, here seems to fit him just right. “i deserved it, anyway.” “i’m going to punch you until you fucking pass out, chan.” woojin grumbles between two laboured sighs, his fist tightened in a ball again.  _ go ahead _ , chan doesn’t say,  _ ruin me _ . for once, woojin doesn’t seem to hear it.

 

tired and high on both the blunt he smoked a few hours prior  _ and _ the draining feeling of seeing chan again, he all but falls on top of him and starts sobbing again, his soul raw and bleeding and slowly dripping from his eyes. his hold is still painful but chan welcomes it eagerly, his own hands fisting woojin’s sweat. “hey, is that my scarf?” “shut the fuck up.”

**Author's Note:**

> i am. sorry about felix i promise i love him and it breaks me to kill him  
> so  
> what did you think, let me know im like  
> super insecure :(  
> also you can talk to me on twitter @IL0VELIX or curiouscat [here](https://curiouscat.me/chogiwarned)  
> kudos and comments are appreciated but not mandatory!!!  
> also, next is jisung/minho uwu


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